


Bred in the Flames of Revolution

by krispykreeper



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Emotional Hurt, Exile, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Loneliness, Suicidal Thoughts, also, heed the warnings please, i need the clout, last three are mentioned - Freeform, no beta we die like wilbur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:00:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27967202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krispykreeper/pseuds/krispykreeper
Summary: “Goodbye, Tommy,” Tubbo says, and Tommy hurts so badly, he wants to break down and cry. He doesn’t.(When L’Manburg needed him, Tommyinnit put his walls up, donned a soldier's uniform at sixteen, and nevereverbroke.)
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 432





	Bred in the Flames of Revolution

**Author's Note:**

> okay i’m finally done this MONSTER of a fic. if you can squint this fic is a vent wearing a trenchcoat lol. anyway enjoy readers because i pulled out all of the stops to make this fic possible. 
> 
> a footnote, HEED THE TAGS PLEASE IM BEGGING

_Come rest your bones next to me, and toss all your thoughts to the sea. I'll pull up each of our anchors, so we can get lost, you and me_

(Listen, little soldier, there are three rules to follow when you’re on that field. Number one, prepare for betrayal, from everyone, no matter how close. Number two, be unbreaking, never cry, never show emotion, never show weakness. And number three, never lose sight of what’s important, that you make it out alive and breathing.) 

Tommy is a boy defined by his immense love. He loves so many things and he loves them fiercely, he would do anything for the things, the _people_ , he loves. But his love is only countered by his loss, and Tommy’s lost so much. He lost his discs, his beloved nation, his older brother, who was stabbed through his frozen heart by his own _father_ , he’s lost his _childhood_ to a _war_ , and now his best friend. He’s lost so much but he keeps trekking on, he keeps going because he _has_ to.

A familiar brunette opened his mouth, “Tommyinnit, you are hereby exiled from L’Manburg and its surrounding populations.” Tubbo was no stranger to Tommy, they had fought wars with each other, they had fought wars against each other and they had fought wars _for_ each other. So yes, Tubbo wasn’t a stranger at all. Tommy and Tubbo were best friends! They stuck together like glue and were always loyal to each other and they always had each other’s backs. But despite all of that, in this moment, Tubbo’s eyes held something so unfamiliar to Tommy, so foriegn. Was it grief that he’s exiling his best friend? Was it relief that the so-called “liability” to L’Manburg was gone? What was it?

“Tubbo, please. You’re my best friend!”

“Goodbye, Tommy,” Tubbo says, and Tommy almost breaks, he almost comes down and cries. He almost lets his facade of a strong, confident soldier down.

He doesn’t.

Though, a strangled noise made it’s way out of Tommy’s mouth as he fell to his knees. He ignored the pitiful looks that were given from the people behind him. Desperate and choked noises made its way out of the soldier, the teenager, the _child_ as he begged. Old Tommy would have thought of him as pathetic, the great Tommyinnit begging on his knees? _What a fucking joke_. Well, at least he wasn’t sobbing, past Tommy will give him that.

The thing is, past Tommy doesn’t get it, doesn’t he? He never did and he never would. He’d never get it until his older brother, driven to the brink of insanity, snapped and pleaded on his knees for their eldest brother to kill him, to take his last life, on that stage for everyone to see. He’d never get it until he witnessed Phil stab said brother through his chest. He’d never get it until he sat there, helplessly, as his brother’s corpse was put down. He’d never get it until his idol exiled him, leaving him to rot with the dead outside of the land they fought for. He’d never get it until his best friend had one of his lives taken by a certain pink-haired brother. He’d never get it until he was forced to fight until his hands started bleeding and his skin was littered with scars. He’d never get it until he’s been through an entire war. He’d never fucking get it until he’s been through all the horrors Tommy has went through.

He was a boy, an impulsive, innocent boy, who got wrapped up in a war. He was betrayed, he was injured and he was beaten down. But he has to get back up again, because that’s what heroes do, right? They get back up, they keep on fighting and so will Tommy. Tommyinnit will keep on fighting tooth and nail until he can be happy again. Tommy will not break. Tommyinnit _refuses_ to break.

Tommy promises on his last breath that he’ll never break. And he most certainly won’t when he’s put into a bruising grip by the green bastard. He won’t break when he’s shoved into a boat, carried into a distant island far away from L’Manburg. He won’t break when he’s hit his lowest point because he knows the only way from rock bottom is up. He won’t break. He won’t break. **He can’t break**.

_My heart is buried in Venice. Hidden beneath all my worries and doubts. My heart is buried in Venice, waiting for someone to take it home_

A particular beanie’d man (well, ghost) wearing a yellow sweater came with Tommy. He doesn’t know why the ghost decided to come with him but Ghostbur is good company when you’re alone on a deserted island. A chilly breeze hits Tommy as he tries to block out the cold with his, very thin, coat. Ghostbur looks up from his spot on a random tree trunk, “Are you cold, Tommy? I noticed that you’re shivering a little.”

He doesn’t wait for Tommy to answer because he’s already digging through a nearby chest. There’s a lot of clunking and noises coming from him before he pulls out a garment of clothing - a very, _very_ familiar piece of clothing. A jacket, a _trenchcoat_ to be exact. “Here you go Tommy!” He chirps as he lays the coat over his younger brother. The trenchcoat was haphazardly stitched together and it was _musty_ as all hell. The combined smell of smoke and perfume was enough to make Tommy almost sob because it smells exactly like Wilbur when he was alive. It smelled like the comforting older brother who lovingly ruffled his hair every time Tommy and he met up. It smelled like his dead older brother who was gone long ago as the insanity took over his mind. It smelled of the person he lived with for over ten years. But he still doesn’t break, instead he opts to reply with a small, “Thank you, Ghostbur.”

The ghost seems content with that answer and floats away back to L’Manburg to check up on its residents. Ghostbur says L’Manburg is doing well, they’ve almost finished rebuilding all of the city. And it was true, L’Manburg looks so much better compared to the crater that it was a few weeks ago. The entire city was reinvented, there were newer buildings, Niki got a new bakery, the smell of freshly baked pastries wafting from inside her door and the people who lived in L’Manburg were so much happier, their smiles as radiant as the sun. But L’Manburg during nightfall was the most beautiful it would ever be. As the sun lowered its blazing hot body down and the moon started rising, L’Manburg would look _ethereal_ to say the least. The newly installed lanterns lit up the night from the skies, their embers smouldering and coiling like a fiery snake as the stars twinkled down on L’Manburg’s citizens like a string of dazzling fairy lights sprawled over a silky black blanket. If you were up late enough, you would be walking there in complete silence. No one else other than you, the rustling of leaves, the quiet mechanisms around town still working and the sound of your footsteps clacking against the wood. You’d smile to yourself and think, ‘This really is my home, huh?’

_Home_. That word struck a chord within Tommy, a bad one. You see, he’s considered a lot of places home, Pogtopia, L’Manburg, Wilbur’s arms, Tubbo, the list goes on and on. Tommy directly disobeyed the soldier’s rules, “Number one, prepare for betrayal, from everyone, no matter how close”. Tommy trusted too easily, and where did that get him now? Homeless, well, metaphorically speaking. Pogtopia? Deserted. L’Manburg? Exiled. Wilbur’s arms? I’m not sure if you couldn’t already notice but Wilbur’s fucking _dead_! Lastly, Tubbo. Oh poor, sweet Tubbo. Tubbo abandoned him when Tommy needed him the most. Tubbo caved when Dream threatened to take L’Manburg off of the gameboard, he listened to Dream and his stupid orders. But the first thing to know in this SMP, in this cruel game, is that you never _**ever**_ play by the green bastard’s rules. And Tommy was never the type to follow them anyway.

~~“Number one, prepare for betrayal, from everyone, no matter how close.”~~

_Even when you try to hide it, a smile creeps out from your teeth. I never thought that I would have to say I'm sorry, for anyone but me_

Tommy peers over the edge of the netherrack into the pool of bubbling magma below. He was with Sapnap and Dream in the nether. Those two were fooling around while Tommy, almost entranced, continued to gaze intently at the lava pit. Tommy’s face was a blank slate, detached even. He wondered if he’d feel the heat of his body burning to a crisp, blackened and discoloured. He wondered what death would feel like. He wondered what would happen if he just _jumped_. He opens his mouth, “Fellas, when do you know it’s too much?”

A sharp jab to his shoulder jolts him out of his trance, “It’s not your time to die yet, Tommy.” Dream says. Of course it’s _Dream_ of all people who says it. Dream has done nothing but make Tommy’s life a living hell. Dream, the same person who caused Tommy to be exiled. Dream, the same person who drove his brother insane. Dream, the same person who has almost _murdered_ him countless times. Dream, the same person who’s now telling him “It’s not his time”. What a load of _horseshit_.

Tommy shakes his head, trying to get rid of his worrying thoughts and smiles bitterly at the masked man, “It’s never my time,” he replies. It’s never going to be Tommy’s time because he’s the main character, the protagonist, the hero, the one who has to keep going. Tommy’s mind goes back to Technoblade’s speech on the sixteenth, “Good things don’t happen to heroes, Tommy”. The blonde is starting to think his older brother was right. About the government, about heroes, about _everything_.

Tommy didn’t want to be the hero anymore. He’s so done with the main role. He’s tired. He’s so fucking _tired_ of it. He wants to break down and cry his heart out. He desperately wants to do it, but he can’t. He can’t because he has to keep fighting the good fight. He can’t until he can rest in safety and comfort and who knows when that’s going to happen. He can never catch a break, betrayal after betrayal, exile after exile, Tommy’s grown so tired of it. Tommyinnit has sacrificed everything for L’Manburg and what does he get in return? A knife in his back, a banishment, to be exact. Well, _another_ banishment. As if one wasn’t enough for a teenager placed directly on the front of a battlefield.

Sapnap looks at him worriedly, “Are you alright, Tommy?” he asks, walking up to him. Tommy never really got to know Sapnap on a deep and personal level but both held a mutual respect for each other and it only strengthened after the ending of the pet war. Sapnap’s words come to Tommy’s mind, “Do you think we can still be friends after tomorrow, Tommy?” Tommy took a deep breath, ‘It’s Sapnap you idiot! You can at least make conversation with him!’

He cracks a weak smile at the older, “I’m fine, Sapnap”. Sapnap looks at him like he doesn’t quite buy it but let’s it be, “Well, bye, Tommy! Dream and I will stop by next week!” he cheered as he waved at the boy. Sapnap let the topic go but Tommy could still see the visible worry in his eyes, he genuinely cared for the younger and it crushed his heart having to exile him. Tommy, on the other hand, was still fond of Sapnap but he couldn’t let his barriers down, not yet at least.

He stays quiet as he watches Sapnap and Dream pass through the obsidian portal, leaving an empty space in their place. Tommy sighs heavily, putting his hands in his head. Tommy feels so tired, so empty. The tired Tommy’s talking about isn’t one that can go away either, it’s more of a bone-deep tiredness, one that you can’t get rid of. His emotions start building up, like an overflowed bucket, frothing and boiling until it spills over the sides. The boy tries to shake off his emotions, just like the hardened soldier he is.

He can’t.

Tommy’s eyes brim with tears as he starts choking on his feelings that have been churning and stirring in his stomach. The feeling of sadness weighs him down in his guts as his head begins to feel heavy. He curls up into a shaky ball, he’s not crying, he promises.

He promises he’s not crying as wet tears make its way down his cheeks. He promises he’s not crying as he’s curled into a fetal position, sobbing his poor heart out just like he wanted to a few moments ago. Tears blurred his vision as he hiccuped, a small, broken noise. One that you wouldn’t expect from a fighter such as Tommy. Tommy just sobbed and cried for minutes upon minutes, he wept until he couldn’t anymore. He just wiped his tears, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyelids, ‘Come on Big Man! Pull yourself together!’ he rested his head back and closed his eyes, disappointed in himself that he broke yet another rule.

He sighed and got back up on his feet.

~~“Number two, be unbreaking, never cry, never show emotion, never show weakness.”~~

_Now my heart is buried in Venice, waiting for someone to take it home_

Ghostbur approached Logsted, “Tommy! Tommy!” Ghostbur seemed more excited this time around, though, Tommy doesn’t know why that is but it’s nice seeing him happy. Ghostbur ran behind Tommy like an excited puppy, “Tommy, I brought someone that’s just like me!”

Tommy turned and was met with another familiar face, this one framed by ram horns and wearing a soft blue sweater. A stark contrast to the harsh, clean cut suit he was wearing the last time Tommy saw him, “Hey, Tommy.” he mumbled. “Schlatt?”

Schlatt simply sighed and kicked a nearby pebble, “Yeah, it’s me”. Schlatt and Tommy had a funny relationship to say the least. Tommy absolutely idolized the elder and was more than crushed when he was exiled by the same person. Schlatt, on the other hand, doesn't remember what he did and thinks of Tommy as his pseudo-younger brother still. He loves the kid more than life itself.

Schlatt looked different from when Tommy last saw him, he looked happy. His eyes were more relaxed, a welcome change compared to the angry ones he had when he was living. His face has smile lines etched into his cheeks,it was nice seeing him this way. It was much better than the harsh alcoholic that died a few weeks ago.

“I think I was-”

“Reincarnated as a ghost, I know.”

Schlatt floated up to Tommy and cupped the younger’s head in his transparent hands, an affectionate (and unusual) move from a politician such as Schlatt,“You look tired, kid.” he says with worry filling his brown eyes.

Tommy chuckles even though there’s nothing funny about it, “I _am_ tired”. That statement was nothing but true, Tommy is tired beyond belief, constantly in a state of a fight or flight reaction. He is nothing but tired. He’s sick of it and he just wants a break without having to put his life on the line for it. Schlatt frowned. Those three words wormed their way into Schlatt’s heart and ripped it up from the inside. He was crushed by such emotion, or lack thereof, that came from the once bright and impulsive boy, “I’d hug you if I could Tommy, you seem like you need one.”

“I do.”

_Say, say what you mean, tell me the truth or tell me you're through. Don't leave me to breathe. Don't leave me to bleed. For someone who chose to leave me be_

(There is a bittersweet triumph in crashing and burning when you should be living and soaring instead.)

Tommy slung his legs over the ledge, he was currently in the nether, alone. Ghostbur was out in L’Manburg doing whoever knows what. The warmth of the lava pool was inviting to him. Again, he was entranced by the glowing magma underneath him. He once again pondered what it would be like for him to just jump, to take a leap, to take a step off of the edge and fall. Fall downward into the heat’s loving embrace, it would certainly be more welcoming than L’Manburg. And so he did.

Tommy stood up, turned around, held his breath-

-and took a step back.

Tommy’s fatal fall was _exhilarating_. The wind brushed his hair up as the speed of the descent was incredibly fast. The blond closed his eyes and waited for his demise to finally come and claim him. He’d finally be rid of the exiles, the mistakes and the pain he’s gone through. He’d finally be free.

His back hit the lava.

The fire engulfed him, running scorching trails along the sides of his arms, down his back, his ankles, his knees as his sharp teeth were bared to the world. Tommy’s mouth was pulled up in a grin as body neared the lava under him and the ledge he slipped from faded as he grew farther from it. The boy’s arms were spread wide open, welcoming his demise with open arms as he plummeted downwards.Tommyinnit falls and he falls into a blazing pit of lava. His corpse burns in the depths of the fiery lake, never to be found as it sank to the bottom, charred and blackened. But from those depths, Tommyinnit is reborn as a ghost.

Tommy’s ghost emerged from the bubbling pit of lava. He was a bright yellow and orange-red ghost. His hair was almost identical to the flames he had burned in not too long ago, their strands constantly moving and swirling and leaving a trail of light smoke behind. The fumes spun and twisted beneath his feet around his ankles before settling and dissolving. Tommy’s skin was radiant to say the least, it was yellow and as bright as the morning sun, his skin literally glowed and shone with pride and happiness as he grinned. Attached to his back were a set of fiery golden-red wings. Their feathers almost looked like those of a phoenix with the way they were coloured. 

The boy opened and tested his wings before starting to move them in an up and down motion, just like Phil taught him with the Elytra when he was young. He lifted off of the ground and soared. He soared through the nether in loops and different flight patterns. The wind was brushing his ghostly hair back and he swooped through caves and cliffs and passed by the nether fortress. He never felt more happy, he laughed and cheered. Tommy was once again the carefree child he was before. He felt so free, so alive. It felt amazing.

~~“And number three, never lose sight of what’s important, that you make it out alive and breathing.”~~

There are three rules that are important to follow. Number one, prepare for betrayal, from everyone, no matter how close. Number two, be unbreaking, never cry, never show emotion, never show weakness. And number three, never lose sight of what’s important, that you make it out alive and breathing. 

But well, Tommy never was the type to follow rules anyway.

_My heart is buried in Venice. Waitin' for someone to take it home._

**Author's Note:**

> you guys okay? hopefully you are, brushing past that, you know the drill, leave comments and kudos because they fuel me a lot.


End file.
